


Eight-Legged Freaks.

by anniespinkhouse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Animal Transformation, Crack, Halloween, Kissing, M/M, POV Outsider, non-explicit sexual references, spiders (not particularly scary ones)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniespinkhouse/pseuds/anniespinkhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam/Dean (Wincest) Outsider POV. Takes place early in season 8 but no particular spoilers except for Sam’s hair. Biddy owns a candy store. She also talks to spiders. When FBI agents Sam Smith and Dean Jones investigate a possible haunting, on Halloween evening, the consequence of Dean eating too much candy is disturbing. It’s a race against time for Sam to find a way to return Dean to normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight-Legged Freaks.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the spn_bigpretzel Halloween reverse micro bang to the fun picture prompt by smalltrolven, who has been so encouraging to work with.
> 
> Betas: Thanks go out to to sylsdarkplace and meus_venator for making this better. All mistakes remain my own.  
> Disclaimer: Sam and Dean don’t exist and even if they did they wouldn't belong to me. Also, none of this happened. This makes me very sad.

 

Biddy could hear the sound of excited chatter as a gang of ghosts, ghouls, cowboys and princesses clattered past the old candy store. A small boy in his cowboy costume stopped briefly to press his nose against the glass, looking longingly at the colorful displays of treats, before running on to catch up with his friends.  

 

“Dean, are you even listening to me?” Agent Sam Smith looked up from photographs that Biddy had given him and scowled at his partner.

 

The one called Dean Jones chewed enthusiastically and smacked his full pink lips before swallowing with a noisy gulp. He had relaxed a little from the hard lines and harsh stance he had taken when he first walked into her store, but his defensive posture hadn’t left him. He exuded tension, as if coiled ready to meet some deadly enemy in this dusty old shop.

 

They were handsome ones for sure, strong and firm-chested, with chiseled features and distinct jaw-lines. Dean’s hair was a golden brown, short and slightly spiked. His green eyes sparkled dangerously with glints of gold. Sam seemed somehow softer and yet he was tall as a tree with planes every bit as firm. His foxy eyes shone hazel with glints of other hues. There were similarities too though, and Biddy was struck by the way they somehow fit together, unconsciously moving or speaking as one, finishing each other’s sentences and moving in perfect synchronicity.

 

Biddy laughed, with a genuine and friendly, but toothless smile. “The Super Spider is always a favorite at Halloween. The kids eat the dangly toffee legs one by one, before they bite off its chocolate eyes.”

 

“S’good Sam,” was all that Dean could manage as his tongue searched out sticky-sweet remnants to suck them from his teeth.

 

“But you’re not open for Halloween this year, right?” Sam asked, looking to the locked shop door.

 

“I didn’t want to risk it. I wouldn’t ever forgive myself. Such bright children we have in this town. How could I live with it?” Biddy fidgeted nervously.

 

“So, why do you think that you’re haunted? You’ve owned this shop for forty years, and you say it belonged to your father before that. Nothing happened before Halloween last year, and nothing has happened since.” Shiny brown hair tumbled about Sam’s face and his brow creased.

 

Biddy thought Sam looked confused. It was understandable. Biddy was an old lady, the candy store even older than her, but somehow she  _knew_  that last year’s events were not normal. Everything had felt wrong last Halloween. There had been five disappearances that night, all children, all customers of hers, just gone on Halloween evening. There had been no sighting of them ever since they set out to trick and treat their way about the town. Three Halloween costumes had been found in streets adjacent to Biddy’s shop but there were no other clues. Headlines screamed ever more morbid theories about the “HALLOWEEN ABDUCTIONS” for months before the town became quiet with the acceptance that the children were probably gone forever. With a whole year passed, most townsfolk believed they were looking for a murderer, and a fear gripped them that he may strike again as laughing children in costume once again knocked on doors for sweets and treats.

 

Dean rubbed the bridge of his freckled nose and belched. Sam glared at him and he gave a cheeky grin. “’Sorry ma’am, guess I’m not so not used to sugar lately.

 

Sam spoke again, “You can’t blame yourself, Biddy.” He looked over at Dean, “Pied Piper? D’ya reckon those things even exist?”

 

She sighed. When Rhett at the mall had told her about the FBI looking into the Halloween disappearances she had jumped at the chance to have it reinvestigated. She wanted to tell someone, anyone, about her worries and be reassured. Biddy would rather be a mad old lady than have her fears come true, but these two investigators were not what she had in mind. For one, they said they believed her, and then there was the fact that they didn’t look or act like government officials. Dean was currently working his way through the selection of sweets she had politely offered on a gaudy Halloween plate in the shape of a giant spider, and Sam’s hair wouldn’t be out of place in one of those loud, shouty, rock groups.

 

“Sammy! Kit Kats. Oh, I missed them when I was away.” Dean’s hand touched Sam’s elbow lightly, as if he had been about to tug at his coat sleeve, like a child. Sam’s smile at him was soft and fond and he made no objection to Agent Jones pawing at him. It seemed as if there was some sort of silent understanding between them.

 

“Oh where have you been away to? Anywhere nice?” Biddy asked conversationally. She didn’t get to talk with many adults nowadays, so she was going to make the most of this encounter.

 

Some of the light in their eyes appeared to dim, simultaneously and the green-eyed one, Agent Jones, cast his gaze downwards. “No. Not nice. Just the job y’know.”

 

“Undercover! I knew it from the moment I saw Agent Smith’s hair! Now, you just go ahead and have one of those Kit-Kats.”

 

“Actually …” Sam started to speak but Dean interrupted, “Yeah, soon as we’ve got time I’m gonna get a pair of scissors to his hair.” His long fingers snaked to the spider plate to grab a chocolate bar.

 

“Dean! Really? Have you even heard of diabetes?” Agent Smith huffed but Dean continued to unwrap the chocolate wafer. There was the loud crinkle of foil and rip of paper in the quiet space. He opened his mouth wide and his white teeth bit into the candy bar with gusto.

 

Biddy had to cover her mouth to smother her smile at Sam Smith’s bitch-face. “Have you been partners for long?” she asked him.

 

Agent Jones’ eyes widened and he spoke with his mouth full. “No. we’re not …”

 

“Yes, too many years,” supplied Agent Smith as he elbowed his partner, and Dean choked, coughing up a fragment of chocolaty biscuit.

 

Biddy leaned in close to Agent Jones and winked, “You’re such a nice couple. It must be frowned upon in your line of business so don’t worry, I won’t tell.” She made a zipping motion with her fingers to her lips.

 

Agent Dean Jones swallowed then opened and closed his mouth silently and Agent Sam Smith took a moment to recover from her observation before flipping up the cover of a plain black notebook and clearing his throat. “Tell me everything you remember about last Halloween, Miss. Bowmont.”

 

“Oh, call me Biddy, please.” She turned and grasped the handle of the door behind the counter. “Shall we go through to the house? It’s much more comfortable in the parlor.” She nodded to the counter, “Bring the candy plate with you, Dean.”

 

Sam and Dean sat on the edge of her sofa, their coffee cups in their hands. “What happened last year, Biddy?” Agent Smith forced a smile but his hazel eyes belied his exasperation with her. Such a pity, she thought. They were really beautiful boys, tall and very polite, but in a few minutes they’d be sure to think her crazy. For a moment she was distracted by Bertie, the large spider who had been hiding in the corner of the ceiling, and she wondered what he was thinking about all this. She’d never bothered ask. Perhaps it was very rude of her, as she’d been chattering away in her loneliness, all this time. She resolved to ask Bertie, or maybe Katie or Hal. They were always so friendly. She’d ask them after the nice agents went home.

 

“Biddy?” Green-eyes studied her as a hand waved in front of her face.

 

“Oh, yes dear. Let me catch up. It was Halloween, did I mention that? Halloween, just after my sister died … was that last year? I think it was last year. It was very cold for October, so I borrowed Mildred’s cashmere scarf. I’m sure she won’t mind. Had boxes of stuff did Mildred and I had to sort it all out. Typical of Mildred. I knew she’d die first, never did like to take responsibility that one … and she would just hate Bertie …” It felt good to tell somebody her worries, and Sam and Dean were dear, sweet, patient boys. She decided that their mommas must be proud of them but when she mentioned it there was an awkward silence. Sam cleared his throat and squared his shoulders to continue, and Dean looked at Sam in a very strange way. 

 

 

[ ](http://anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/312/16731)

The agents had a fancy monitor which they waved around the shop and then the storeroom and into her cramped living space. They asked to see the boxes of Mildred’s belongings and had tapped at their silent machine as if they were expecting a response that they didn’t get. She couldn’t remember where she’d put the key to the basement but Agent Jones was very resourceful and managed to unlock it with some handy tool he had in his pocket. As the first stair creaked she remembered her friends.

 

“Oh, agents ... be careful of Katie and Hal, I’m sure they’ll scuttle out of the way but I’d hate them to get a fright.”

 

Sam and Dean looked up at her with raised eyebrows and strained smiles. “Katie and Hal?” asked Agent Smith.

 

“They’ve got their webs just the way they like them, I’d hate you to untangle it all.”

 

Biddy thought Sam and Dean had lovely long eyelashes that framed their wide, wide, eyes as they stopped on the stairs and shot a meaningful look at each other.

 

“How big are Katie and Hal, Miss. Bowmont?”

 

“No need to worry, dearies, not as large as a bird eating spider. More like a tarantula. Yes, that’s about right, and the sweetest of temperaments.”

 

Biddy wasn’t deaf so she heard Dean’s comment about her being two cans short of a six-pack.  Despite having to go to sit down for a while she also heard Dean’s “Holy Crap!” and Sam’s “Oh, wow! Actually there is something quite fluffy about them.” In fact the old wooden floor did nothing to muffle anything the agents said in the cellar.

 

“Sam, I’ve never seen spiders like these before. I don’t like ‘em.”

 

“Don’t be a baby.”

 

“No wonder she thinks she’s being watched. I mean, eight beady little eyes each and they look so …lively. They give me the creeps. Let’s get this done and get out of here. I don’t feel so well.”

 

Well, there’s no EMF and no sign of bodies in the cellar. Witch?” Sam Smith asked as if it were a perfectly normal question. Biddy was beginning to wonder about the boys.

 

“She’s hardly going to be warning the whole town not to go out if she’s a witch. No witch we ever met has chosen to be old and infirm. Why would they, when they can be young and sexy? Mm.” There was a pause as Dean seemed to think on his words, and then he continued, “She’s lonely and a little crazy. All she’s got is her candy store and everyone uses the mini-mart these days.  _She talks to spiders, Sam._ We should follow other leads.”

 

“I don’t know, Dean. It seems there could be something. They were all here. She remembers every one of them coming in to buy Halloween candy with their parents.”

 

“Could be unrelated, or human,” replied Dean.

 

“Now that was an odd thing for Agent Jones to say,” mused Biddy to Bertie, who had settled all eight legs in the crook of her arm and curled up comfortably. Bertie didn’t answer her, but several of his eyes seemed to twinkle.

 

“HOLY FUCK! Is it on me? Get it off me. Sam! It’s climbing up my leg. SAMMY!”

 

There was the sound of a mirthful chuckle, “Aw, it likes you, Dean. Jesus, no! It’s just a spider and the she’ll be upset if you squash it. Dean? Okay, I’ve got it. You okay?”

 

Biddy could hear rasped breath. “Yeah. Bad memories. Damn arachne! Too many cobwebs where I’ve been. Give me a minute, I’ll be fine.”

 

There were a few minutes of silence and then Dean spoke again, “There’s no hex bags, nothing here. We should go.”

 

“Yeah, ‘kay, Dean.”

 

For such large men their footsteps on the stairs were surprisingly light. They ducked their heads to come through the basement door. Dean did indeed look very pale, verging on green. Biddy remembered how panicky Mildred would get when she saw a spider and felt a little sorry for the lawman, but Katie and Hal would never do anybody any harm.

 

“I, er, whoa.” Dean swayed and shook his head. “Sam, maybe you’re right, I shouldn’t have eaten all that candy. I feel weird.” He grabbed for the back of Mildred’s old upright chair and Sam grasped his elbow.

 

“Dean!” Sam’s hazel eyes were full of concern, he steered his partner into the chair. “Can you get some water, Biddy?”

 

“Heard of seeing double Sammy, but what the Hell? There’s at least six of you right now. Weird.”

 

Sam’s voice lowered but Biddy’s hearing was just dandy, “Three weeks out of Purgatory and you think it’s okay to eat enough sugar to sink a ship. C’mon.”

 

Purgatory? She’d never heard of the town. Biddy supposed it was a code word for the undercover mission the agent had been on. Yes, that would be it. Bertie perched on her shoulder as she shut off the tap.

 

“DEAN! No, No, No!” 

 

Agent Smith’s voice was urgent, and panicky. Biddy grasped the glass of water and shuffled through to the parlor as quickly as she could manage.

 

Biddy blinked as she looked about the room. Agent Smith had his head in his hands muttering words that made no sense to her. He was distraught, turning in a circle looking every way. Agent Jones was nowhere to be seen, which was peculiar because the only way out of the room would have been past Biddy and she was absolutely sure she couldn’t have missed that handsome bulk of muscle slipping by her. She blinked again as she noted a pile of clothes in Mildred’s chair.  _Agent Jones’ clothes_ , and that made no sense  _at all_.

 

“WHERE IS HE?” Agent Smith had stopped spinning and was approaching Biddy with menace, muscles taut and eyes of cold steel, “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?” and goodness, Sam Smith was tall, very tall and very strong and there was a brief moment of clarity in which she realized that he probably wasn’t from the FBI at all. Biddy’s mouth was suddenly dry and she wondered how she even had time to contemplate the deception. “You’re not FBI.” She glared at him as she shoved the hand with the glass of cold water at him, and it spilt large drops over his plaid shirt. She might be an old lady but she had nothing to lose and she wasn’t going to be attacked in her own home without getting angry.

 

Bertie took the opportunity to scuttle down Biddy’s arm and he seemed to be jigging in a very odd manner for a spider. His central eyes looked toward the chair where Dean Jones had been sitting before his disappearance. Biddy and Sam followed the direction of his gaze and Sam’s eyes narrowed. His hand dropped from her neck and he spun on his heel to look again at the pile of clothes on Mildred’s chair.

 

The tip of one fuzzy leg appeared on Agent Jones’ shirt, then another bending at the joint and heaving a huge, oval-bodied and rather startled-looking spider to the top of the mound of fabric.

 

“Dean?!” Sam Smith’s eyes were rounded with shock, but Biddy thought he was doing rather better than she was. She felt around for her own chair and plopped into it with relief. Her breath came in short bursts as she tried to work out if she was already dead, dreaming or perhaps old age had finally taken her sanity. That was it. None of this was real.

 

“It’s okay,” she reassured herself, “You’re not real. That’s not real,” she said pointing vaguely in the direction of the greenish-black and fuzzy spider with the rose-red abdomen and eight suspiciously green eyes. It was certainly a very handsome hallucination of a spider.

 

“Dean?” Sam repeated, softer and more quizzically this time.

 

The spider on Agent Jones’ clothes seemed to stare up at Sam and then enacted a peculiar dance wherein all eight legs twitched and then moved sideways, but not in the same direction. Biddy had never seen a spider trip over its own legs but the hallucination managed it. Biddy and Sam both stared as the spider moved again, first to one side, shuffling all eight legs carefully, and then forwards, falling slightly so it’s red rump stuck up into the air.  Biddy was sure she heard the thing chuff slightly before two hairy legs were lifted into the air in a definite supplication to Sam Smith.

 

Sam reached a huge palm to the chair. He gently scooped the spider up and lifted it to eye level. It made no effort to run away but nestled into the warmth of Sam’s hand. A slight smile played on Sam’s lips as he spoke, “Dude, you have a bright red ass.”

 

The spider stomped six legs on his palm in temper before darting up Sam’s arm to shelter on his neck under the mop of his hair. Biddy recognized a spider sulk when she saw one. Then she reminded herself it couldn’t be real.

 

Biddy continued in her rhetoric, “It’s not real, not real, not happening.” Her hands were trembling and she was sure her heart couldn’t take much more. Old ladies shouldn’t have shocks like fake FBI agents who turned into spiders. Bertie nuzzled into the crook of her arm, and she stroked him gently.

 

Sam cocked his head and looked at her for a little while then crouched to her level and eased the glass of water to her lips. “Here have a sip, he said kindly.

 

The water was wet, and it was certainly very refreshing even if it was part of a dream. “Did? .. Are you? ..Is that?” Biddy’s words weren’t coming out right. She continued to fuss at Bertie who bent two legs around her pinky finger affectionately.

 

“I’m sorry Biddy but it is real, and I need your help.” Sam looked worriedly at her, as if she might clutch at her chest and keel over at any moment. Biddy railed a little at that. She may be old, but she wasn’t a delicate flower. If she wasn’t imagining it then she wasn’t mad and that had to be a good thing, right?

 

 “Where did you find Bertie? How long have you had him?” Sam asked.

 

“How long haven’t you been with the FBI and who are you?” Biddy finally managed to counter acidly.

 

Sam huffed. “I’m Sam Winchester and this here,” he pointed to the green, black and red spider on his neck. “is Dean. We kinda specialise in this sort of thing.” He paused and then added, “We don’t normally get turned into spiders. We try to avoid that.” She could see him shiver as the spider tickled hairy legs over sensitive skin. “Cut it out, Dean!” he growled. “Biddy, if this is some sort of Halloween spell then it will be very strong once midnight strikes, almost impossible to break once Halloween is over. I need you to calm down, think and answer my questions.” His voice had a note of despair and there was an unnatural wet sparkle to his eyes.  “Tell me about Bertie and Katie and Hal.”

 

Biddy scowled and straightened herself up. After all, she’d survived wars and children’s tantrums. She could surely deal with a minor  _man-turns-into-spider_  issue. Her back twinged and she winced and let it relax a bit. “I know you think I’m a sad old lady but they keep me company and they are very affectionate. Nobody comes to see me since Mildred died. Cats and dogs are such a fuss, don’t you think?” Her voice trailed off as she watched Dean hang perilously from Sam’s long hair by three legs, swinging like a miniature trapeze act.

 

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam stood, frozen in place. “If you fall we could step on you. Stop it!” He sounded pissed.

 

Both of them could only watch as Dean swung to the highest point Sam’s hair would reach and let go. He sailed through the air without grace, legs at all angles, and just when Biddy thought he would hit the floor with a sickening squelch, a silk thread shot out and secured him to the coffee table. He regained proper spider poise and looked about as smug as a spider could look before scrambling up the wooden leg and sauntering over the surface of the table. He picked up speed and coordination as he climbed onto the spider-shaped candy plate and then he stopped, settling between a Tootsie fruit roll and some Reeses’ Peanut Butter Cups.  There was something unnerving in the way he seemed to look at them and he waved the tips of four legs in the air.

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, I have no idea if you can understand me, but now is not the time to play in the candy.”

 

The green-black spider pulled all his legs inward and squatted with purpose in his small space.

 

“Candy,” repeated Sam quietly and with gathering excitement. “Biddy, did the missing children have the same candy?”

 

She shook her head, “I’m not sure. Their parents were buying candy to hand out at the door. I had a special deal, a large selection bag. They’re all very ordinary. I’m sure the mini-mart sold the same brands.”

 

“But the spiders with the chewy legs? The mini-mart doesn’t have them.”

 

“Oh no, dear, but Amy wouldn’t have had one of those. It would have got caught up in her braces, and Billy preferred chocolate.”

 

Dean stretched all eight legs to an impressive circumference and took a jaunt around the rim of the ugly plate before stopping and waving four legs in the air once more. Biddy had a vague suspicion that Dean’s leg waving was the spider equivalent of eye rolling. He might be rolling all eight sparkly green eyes but nobody would be able to tell. Legs were easier for a spider, she decided.

 

Sam’s gaze followed Dean’s journey, assessing the round, black porcelain body of the plate and the eight, shiny, tapering legs that balanced it on the table, “Tell me about the plate, Biddy.”

 

“That old thing? It was Mildred’s.”

 

“I thought Mildred was scared of spiders.”

 

“Oh, she was. She got it from an ex-boyfriend, back in the day. We  _were_  young and pretty once, you know. She rejected him and it was all rather nasty, but a few months later we were at a gypsy fair and we met him. In those days it was the real thing, Romanies and fortune tellers. It was very exciting. He got the plate from an old traveller and suggested it would be fun for the shop. Course, Mildred being a wet blanket, took it with his apology and then had to hide it away in the back of the closet. I found it when I was sorting out her belongings last year. It’s ideal for Halloween, don’t you think? I let the children take a free sweet from it and they were all thrilled.”  Biddy smiled at Bertie, then at spider-Dean and then looked at Sam with an O forming on her lips. “Oh. It couldn’t be … Oh my!”

 

[ ](http://anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/312/16731)

Sam looked ridiculous wearing her bright yellow Marigold gloves to inspect the plate, but he said you could never be too careful with a cursed object, and he was an intelligent young man. Later, she sipped at her coffee as his fingers tip-tapped over his laptop keyboard, and he painstakingly translated the faded Romany text engraved on the base of the plate. Dean scuttled back and forth over the keyboard, possibly in some vain attempt to communicate, but he was too light to press the keys properly. Sam tutted and lifted him up by his rounded body, with all eight legs waving frantically and uselessly through the air. “Not helping, Dean!” he scolded.

 

Little hairy feet, safely back on a surface, Dean ran up Sam’s arm, to investigate his ears and got caught in the collar of his shirt before being dumped unceremoniously back on the table and told to quit bugging Sam. He sulked for a few minutes before climbing the screen of the laptop and concentrating on making a web. He criss-crossed silk in a dedicated manner for some time and Biddy began to discern a specific pattern to his efforts. In fact she was sure the web was in the shape of a pentagram. Bertie watched for a while and then crawled lazily to the corner of the table to weave his own web which took the shape of a perfect Spiderman ‘S’.

 

At nine o’clock on Halloween evening Sam stretched and yawned, “It’s definitely a curse, and according to this it can only be triggered or broken on Halloween. There’s a sentence about love and lovers but it’s too faint to interpret.” Biddy could tell Sam was trying not to panic, but he wasn’t hiding it very well. “We’ve only got three hours. What I don’t understand is why it didn’t affect everybody who took something from the plate, and how Dean transformed so quickly.”

 

“Well …”

 

“What, Biddy?”

 

“I suppose they were the only ones who took more than one sweet from the plate, and Dean did eat more than any of them.” She gave an apologetic shrug of her shoulders.

 

Sam made a sound that resembled “Harrumph” and Dean-spider puffed himself up as large and menacing as possible, with all his hairs bristling, managing to pose as tall as a spider could stand on his eight legs.

 

“What?!” Sam asked the spider, “Oh, no, Dean! You don’t get to tell me to shut up. I totally get to say, I told you so.”

 

“Should we smash the plate?” Biddy asked, because it seemed like an idea that might work.

 

“No. That could make the curse irreversible. There has to be something else.”

 

Dean bounced on the threads of his perfect pentagram web, like a toddler on a trampoline. Bertie copied him on his Spiderman web. Sam watched them both and shook his head.

 

At ten o’clock Sam dropped a match into a bowl of herbs and Biddy hovered with a fire blanket, just in case. A bright blue flame flared and died and an unpleasant stench filled the room. Dean stared balefully at Sam with all eight emerald eyes and waved six of his legs in the air before scurrying onto his hand and up his arm to snuggle in the warmth of his neck once more. Sam sighed and started another internet search.

 

At eleven o’clock Sam tiredly rubbed his hand over his face and through his hair, almost knocking Dean onto the floor. Dean recovered and scrambled through thick, mussed locks to sit on the top of Sam’s head.

 

“Why did Mildred’s ex give her the plate, Biddy? I mean what was he hoping to achieve?” Biddy could hear the despair in Sam’s voice.

 

She shrugged, “We were all Mildred and I ever needed. He was jealous of what we had, of the candy store, each other. Maybe he wanted to ruin our business or perhaps just ruin us. It would have been spiteful to turn me into a spider. Mildred would have squashed me with a shoe, in a moment.”

 

Sam slumped in his chair and looked desolately at his laptop screen. “I don’t know Dean. I just don’t know what to do and we’re running out of time.” 

 

Biddy had been thinking all the while that Sam had been searching. “You could kiss him,” she suggested. She sat on the edge of her chair and looked at him over wire rimmed glasses. “It works in fairy tales,” she explained. It seemed obvious to at least try it.

 

“I’m not a Prince,” Sam’s lips formed a thin line and his words were sarcastic.

 

“You might be  _his_  Prince. What is there to lose?”

 

One green-black hairy leg tentatively slid down the hair at Sam’s forehead, quickly followed by five more and, with a thin strand of silk, all eight legs were in the air and Dean was quickly spiralling down in front of Sam’s crossed eyes to land on the upturn of his nose.

 

“Jesus, Dean! Ugh, really?”

 

Biddy and Bertie watched with growing interest as Sam scrunched his eyes shut and puckered his mouth. The spider placed himself with utmost delicacy right by Sam’s lips and crept forward to receive the rather disgusted pecked kiss. They froze for a moment, waiting.

 

Nothing happened.

 

“I think you have to mean it. Don’t you love him?” said Biddy disapprovingly. Sam relaxed his face and she wondered what he was thinking. His expression softened and he uttered, “Love you, Dean,” before placing the gentlest of kisses on the spiky green hair of the big spider.

 

It seemed like only the blink of an eye before the scene in front of Biddy changed. All at once Sam gasped as the air was crushed from his lungs and a very naked and confused-looking Dean was suddenly sitting on his lap and  _Oh my!_  Biddy pushed her glasses up her nose to get a good view of the firm, muscular body with creamy skin and a sprinkling of honeyed freckles. At her age the opportunity might not present itself again, and it was a _very fine_  naked body.  

 

There was really no need for their kiss to continue but Sam wound his arms around Dean’s shoulders and pulled him close and Dean clutched just as tightly with his two arms wrapped around Sam, no space between them. They were making little throaty noises as their lips slid together and their tongues explored each other’s mouths. Biddy stared for rather longer than was socially acceptable before quietly making her way to the basement door, to explain the curse to Bertie, Katie and Hal or whoever they really were. She placed a gentle kiss on each one of them, with no result. She huffed. That was precisely what she had been worried about; obviously the curse could only be broken by their ‘one true love’.

 

Biddy gathered them all in her hands to look at them. Twenty four eyes gazed back at her.  “We’ll still be family and I’ll love you,” she promised, “and Sam and Dean will find a cure.” She shuffled into the kitchen with them, collected a few juicy flies from the trap on her windowsill to feed them, and they sat on her shoulder while she closed the blinds on a dark moonless night.

When Sam and Dean finally emerged from her parlor, they were red-flushed and sweaty. Dean looked as though he had dressed hastily and Sam’s clothes were every bit as rumpled as Dean’s. They both sported lazy, satisfied smiles.

The plate was boxed securely and warded with strange symbols and Dean promised that they would continue to search for a way to break the Halloween curse. Biddy kissed them both good-bye on the cheek and ‘accidentally’ let her hand stroke the fabric that stretched over their firm asses. She pressed a box of sweets into Dean’s hands, and he turned pale and flung it in the trunk of their Impala with a muttered, "Awesome. Thanks," that didn’t sound genuine.  They drove away with the throaty roar of a classic car and she waved. She could have sworn that Bertie on her shoulder, raised two legs in farewell.

 

[ ](http://anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/312/16731)

One year later, when trick or treaters were filling their bags on Halloween evening, five missing children suddenly reappeared in their own homes. Two of them insisted that they had never left their bedrooms in the entire time they were missing, and the other three wouldn’t speak of their ordeal. Biddy had regular visits from the three of them as they grew up. They stopped by to chat and help in her candy store.

Biddy bought two Chilean rose tarantulas to keep her company and called them Sam and Dean.

 

~end~

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Eight-Legged Freaks | written by anniespinkhouse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7612990) by [Sylvia_Locust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvia_Locust/pseuds/Sylvia_Locust)




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